A Case of Mistaken Identity
by Yami-The-Dark
Summary: AU Malik is a young college student in London, caught in the bad part of town late at night. Bakura is a professional criminal who mistakes Malik for the man he's hunting down. When Bakura makes the mistake of taking Malik hostage, what will become of him? Thiefshipping AU, multi-chapter, rated M for future content.
1. Chapter 1

**This chapter is the opening to what will be a chapter fic. There will be eventual thiefshipping. There will be swearing. There may be lemons. All the things you people eat up like candy XD I swear I will update regularly, I plan to update every Tuesday. So please standby for more updates, and review so I know that you wish to read more. I've been in a huge rut recently and I'm trying to get out of it, so feedback would be greatly appreciated!**

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The night time air was filled with the fresh odour of rain. The sidewalk gleamed with the glamour of stuttering streetlights, seemingly on the verge of burning out, but not quite to that point yet. Few cars were on the road of the seemingly abandoned edge of the London suburb.

Hands shoved in his overcoat pockets, a young, tanned boy about the age of 19 walked quickly through the streets.

"Shit…" He muttered when he saw the neighbourhood sign "Harlesden". He needed to get to his house in Neasden, but it seemed now that he was completely lost.

"Goddammit, where is the tube? There has to be one," he muttered. There didn't seem to be an underground anywhere near the cheap, rundown place. There didn't even seem to be any buses going around at the moment. Or at least, none that he could see.

The boy had been visiting his friends in the neighbourhood, but refused a ride home. 'No,' he had said, 'I can just take the tube.' But, as his luck would be, he couldn't find one. And all the maps he came across were either covered in graffiti, or in a place too dark to read.

He continued to look around, trying to get some idea of where he was. He knew that Harlesden was notorious for crime, so he didn't want to be out here for long. Unfortunately he also seemed to have gotten himself so turned around that he could no longer even tell which way was north.

He walked for a few more blocks before growling in frustration, exclaiming "Fuck!" loudly.

"Hey," said a gruff voice behind him.

The boy spun around, "Who's there?! I'm warning you, I have a taser on me!" He yelled.

The man just chuckled and stepped out from the shadows into the dim light. He wore a long black trench coat. The rest of his facial features were blocked by the shadow of his umbrella, but his bright white hair shone like moonlight, as did his unusually pale complexion.

"I only want to help. Do you need directions?" He asked kindly.

The boy was hesitant to interact with such a shady character, but he supposed he really had no other choice. "Yeah," he said, "I need to find the tube."

The shadowy male smirked slightly, "There's a shortcut right through the alley behind me. It should be right on your left."

"Yeah, right, nice try," The boy said, turning away from the man in front of him, knowing this man was only looking to mug him, "I'm not an idiot." But before he started walking he felt a bony hand grab his wrist and a sharp blade dig into the skin of his neck.

"You're a smart one, huh? But not smarter than me. Make one move and I'll slice your neck open."

The boy froe up, eyes widening. He looked around, but there was no one in sight. He was all alone. He wished that the taser had not been a bluff. His mind was locked up in fear, but he held back a whimper. Showing fear would only make the situation worse for him.

The pale man chuckled, "My, my, now what is a cute little kid like you doing out in a dangerous place like here?"

The boy only gulped again.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you… You see, I think you knew I was coming. Huh, Mariku? I always thought you were too smart to get caught like this… But here we are…."

The boy flinched when the blade dug deeper into his throat, but he managed a breathless whisper, "M-My name is Malik! Malik Ishtar! You've got the wrong person!"

The man just giggled again, "Begging won't help you. It's been so long since I started tracking you down… You were leaving the country tomorrow, hm? Silly of you to be out here… But now you're mine, and I'll get my pay, and you'll get yours…" With that last statement, Malik found himself being gagged and cuffed. He was too afraid to struggle as his body was ungracefully manhandled.

"So cooperative… We could have been good partners… Too bad you're so slippery…"

Malik was openly shaking now, and he whimpered when he felt himself being tugged towards a car parked on the side of the road. His legs were frozen and refused to move, and this obviously mental man growled and yanked him up. Malik found the ability to move his legs after that, and stumbled with the pale male.

The man giggled again, "If I'd have known I was going to catch you today, I would have rented a limousine."

Malik was roughly shoved into the backseat of the small car. His kidnapper, or rather, his 'capturer', didn't even bother to fasten Malik's seatbelt as he climbed into the front and drove off.

Malik tried and tried to wriggle free of his bonds, but the cuffs were too tight and he was only succeeding in chafing and cutting his wrists. The gag was also cutting painfully into his cheekbones, but he couldn't do anything about that with his hands cuffed the way they were.

After about an hour and a half of driving, Malik finally felt the car stop. He was fatigued from wriggling and from staying up all night, but his fear of what the pale man would do forced him to stay awake. Malik saw the car door open.

"Get up," the man ordered. Malik just looked at him tiredly. The man rolled his eyes and grabbed Malik's arm, pulling out of the car and under the umbrella.

"Don't even think about pulling anything. Got it?" He looked dead serious, his shadowy face twisted in a cutting sneer of pride, and there was a new aura of danger about him. Malik thought it best to do as he said, but he only managed a slight nod. His neck was extremely stiff from laying down awkwardly in the car.

The man pulled him to a dark pub, stopping to knock three times at the door. The door quickly opened, and they were greeted by a buff man.

"Ah, Bakura! I've been expecting you! I almost thought you had skipped out on us! And I see you brought the boss' man, very good!"

The newly named Bakura rolled his eyes, "Please, you know that I am the most reliable bounty hunter out there. I tracked him for a month and decided to make my move tonight," He lied. He knew it was dumb luck that he found Malik, and he just cancelled his flight out of the country in the car ride.

"Right, right, we all know how you are, Bakura! Always so cautious! Maybe if you were more buff like me…" The older man trailed off in drunken mumbles.

"Enough of this, where is the boss? I want my money as soon as possible. I'm very busy and I have a lot of jobs to be doing." Another lie.

"Yeah, yeah, he's downstairs. But stay a while! Have a drink! On me!"

Bakura ignored him and dragged Malik down the stairs, "Keep up with me, or you'll fall," he ordered, but Malik was all but asleep by that point. They finally reached the spacious room under the pub. It has grey stone walls and a dirt floor. It looked like a dungeon, and Malik and Bakura were the new cellmates.

A dark chuckle came from the room, "Ah, Bakura, nice to see you. So you finally came through on our deal? I was about ready to call in another bounty hunter and tell him to catch you both."

Bakura scoffed, "That won't be necessary, I always come through. I'm the best there is. I've got your man right here," He said proudly, holding Malik up for the man to see.

But the reaction was the opposite he expected. Instead of being pleased, the man looked shocked as he stood up roughly from his cluttered desk, knocking down the chair in the process. Then that shock dissipated to anger, "Who the fuck is that?!" He yelled, pointing a finger at Malik.

"What are you talking about?! It's Mariku! He matches the photo you gave me!"

"No he is not! That boy is a blonde Egyptian, but he is NOT Mariku! You fucking moron, you caught the wrong person!"

"You're out of your mind! Of course I got the right man, I never make mistakes!" The man's face was bright red, contrasting heavily with Bakura's even paler than normal complexion.

"Moron! Look at that photo! Mariku has a long scar across his cheek that ends at his right ear! Are you telling me that somehow it disappeared?!"

Bakura looked shocked as he realized his mistake, "Shit…" he breathed.

"Yeah, shit indeed! Not only have you failed to bring me my man, but now we have to deal with this kid! What are we supposed to do?! I can't murder anyone else, the police are already starting to suspect all the bodies that are turning up to be related! If I keep doing that they'll sooner or later find something to tie me to the crimes!"

"But we can't let him go! He'll tell the police on us in an instant!" Bakura yelled back.

The man growled, rubbing his temple, "Take him back to your house. Keep him locked up here until I can arrange something."

Bakura looked shocked and disgusted at the idea, "Are you fucking kidding me?! You want me to fucking _babysit_ the brat?!"

"It's your fault all this is happening! He's your problem. And let me tell you, _Bakura_," he spat, glaring daggers at him, "If _any_ of this blows up in my face, I'll have you killed. So you better treat this situation as if your life depends on this, because it does. _Got it?!_" He growled, now completely in Bakura's face.

Bakura shrivelled his nose at the man's foul breath, but nodded.

"Now get the fuck out of my sight before I have you both killed. I'll contact you when I've figured something out."

Bakura quickly left the room, dragging the now wide awake and trembling Malik with him. He ignored the buff man's asking him for a drink, and shoved Malik in the car and sped off towards his home, muttering various curses to himself and shooting Malik evil glares.

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**Thanks for reading! This is chapter one, and it did turn out shorter than I wanted. Oh well. Please review and tell me what you think! Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so, sorry I'm late! You would not imagine how busy I've been. I've had furniture to put together (not just any furniture, but Ikea furniture.), world cup games to watch (Yay America!) and a lot more. But I think I'm just about done with all that and I hope I'll be on time next week. Sorry for the delays, now enjoy!**

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Malik stayed completely still for the entire car ride. The glares Bakura shot him through the rear view mirror were returned by looks of fear and helplessness. Malik tried his best to think of escape plans, but his mind wouldn't cooperate with him and instead chose to focus on the many things Bakura planned to do with him. He knew the pale man most likely would not kill him, but Malik took little comfort in that. After all, there were many things far worse than death.

After about an hour of driving, Bakura pulled up to a large, luxurious looking house. Malik cursed himself for not paying attention to any road signs, because he had no idea where he was. The surroundings were not familiar to him, either, but he could guess they were in a fairly wealthy part of town. Bakura got out of the car, slamming it harshly and making Malik wince.

"Get out," Bakura growled menacingly.

Malik, having learned from before, obeyed the order and clambered to his feet and out of the car. His arm was roughly grabbed by Bakura and he dragged towards the front door. It was barely light out, but Malik still couldn't make out the address of the house, nor did he have time to study the neighbourhood. Bakura opened the door and gave him a sharp shove inside. Malik landed sharply on his left elbow, but held back a sharp yelp of pain.

The inside of the house was dark and shadowy because none of the lights were on. The only source of illumination was given by the morning sunlight seeping in through the closed blinds, creating eerie shadows throughout the large entryway.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Fucking hell, can't you stand?" Bakura gritted his teeth as he pulled Malik back to a standing position. He lead Malik through many other rooms, all decorated with expensive furniture, and many had large flat-screen TV's. He guessed that Bakura probably hadn't obtain them through legal means.

Malik was led to a room that contrasted with the rest of the house. This room had light blue walls and was completely empty save for a small bed in the corner, a white nightstand, a rubbish bin, and a small white dresser. All of this furniture was relatively beaten up, with deep gashed and dents in the white wood.

"Go sit on that bed. Don't even think about trying anything."

Malik obeyed silently and sat on the bed, which was hard and lumpy, but he dared not complain. He was still cuffed, and the fabric of his gag was crusty and soiled with saliva, chafing his cheekbones painfully. Malik realized too that he also really needed to use the toilet.

Bakura paced around the room, his hand combing through his messy white locks. Malik wasn't sure how long he was sitting there, but exhaustion soon took him over and he fell asleep. After a while, Bakura noticed soft snoring coming from Malik, and turned to see him sleeping. He scowled, shaking his head.

"Goddammit… How could I have made such a big mistake…" he sighed angrily, leaving the room and locking the door behind him.

He walked through the hallway and sat on the couch to watch the news. Luckily, there was nothing on Malik or any other missing person. He didn't expect there to be anything unless Malik was some sort of famous movie star or someone of importance. Bakura took out his laptop and quickly googled Malik's name, but all that came up was a facebook account that had remained unused for a year. Bakura breathed a sigh as he closed the laptop, thankful that it seemed his kidnapping would go unnoticed for a while.

"We better figure out something fast," he said to himself. He felt lucky he had gotten off so easily, but he was still worried that the worst was yet to come. After all, his boss had a reputation for not going easy on those who crossed him. And Bakura had most definitely crossed him.

Bakura got up off the couch to check on Malik. He was still asleep, making Bakura's job of tying him up easier. He couldn't allow Malik to sneak away while he was gone, and lucky for him it seemed that Malik would not be waking up any time soon. Bakura had grabbed some old rope from a toolbox that was left out, presumably because Bakura had been looking for a proper lock-bumping screwdriver. He tied Malik's still cuffed wrists to the headboard, ensuring there would be no escape for the boy. Happy with his work, he once again left the room.

"I'll probably have to feed him and shit…" He moaned, dreading the work that was to come. He couldn't be blamed too much, after all, in the rainy night Malik easily looked exactly like Mariku. But still, a _good_ hunter, a hunter like _Bakura_, should never make such a dastardly mistake, no matter how much of an excuse he had. I just _should not have happened._ The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Both at himself and at Malik.

In an attempt to cool himself off, he got up and went to his kitchen on the other side of the house, inwardly cursing for having such a large home. He boiled himself some water for a cup of tea and poured himself a bowl of crisps. He waited, drumming his fingers on the table, for his water to boil. After a few minutes he heard the hissing of the kettle, signalling to him that the water was boiling. He took it off the stove and poured himself a cup.

"Shit, that's hot…" he hissed as the steam condensed on his hand. He set the kettle back down on the stove and added two cubes of sugar and some milk to his steeping tea. He grabbed both his snacks and headed back to the room he was before, setting the food down on the coffee table.

"Where the hell did I put that book…" He muttered, looking around. He looked under the coffee table and in the couch cushions, but he still didn't find it. He always seemed to be misplacing things.

"Whatever," he growled, sitting down on the couch and flipping on the TV. He was half watching the programme and half thinking about what he was going to do about Malik. He munched on his chips and sipped his tea loudly in an effort to take his mind off the young man currently tied up in his empty bedroom, but it didn't help. After all, it was kind of a big thing to just ignore.

After he finished his tea and crisps, not even bothering to clear the dishes to the sink, he got up again and paced.

"He _better _call me about this…" he mumbled, "It's _his _bloody fault too…"

As if his cell could hear him, it started ringing. Bakura jumped a bit, startled by the sudden vibrations in his pocket, before pulling it out and tapping the 'accept call' button.

"What?!" He growled, annoyed at his thoughts being interrupted.

"Watch it, Bakura," growled back the familiar voice of his boss. Bakura stiffened.

"Oh, it's you. You have an idea?" Bakura asked, surprised that he was getting the call so soon.

"Yeah. Take the kid tomorrow down to our place in Brixton. We'll take care of it from there. There'll be two men there. You're to hand him over without a word. And don't let anyone see you."

Bakura raised an eyebrow, "So what're you gonna do?"

The man growled back, annoyed, "You are in _no _position to be asking questions right now, Bakura. You're lucky I'm even helping you out here. Ant I expect you'll be working for free from now on, right? Or will you have to talk to my men about this?"

Bakura gulped, gritting his teeth, "Whatever. I'll bring the kid. Mariku has left the country by now, though."

"I know. I've already sent someone _better_ after him. But I could still use you here, I have a lot of people who owe me after all, you included."

Bakura growled again and hung up, seething with rage. He had gone from best to worst in a matter of a day, all because of that stupid brat Malik. Now not only was he in trouble with the boss, but he was expected to work without pay to make up for his mistake.

"Shit!"

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**So this chapter was a bit shorter than the previous one, sorry about that. But I hope it was worth the wait! Also, if you're reading and are interested, I am in need of a beta reader. Please review and favourite/follow! Your feedback motivates me to write more! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the wait (Again). Remember how I said I thought I wouldn't be busy? I was wrong. Very wrong. I'm leaving on a 3 week long trip this Saturday and I didn't think it would take this much work to get ready for. Trips are nightmares. Especially when you also have 3 little brothers to pack for, their rooms to clean, ect. Please forgive, I wrote an extra long chapter! And driving in a car across 5 states means that I'll have a lot of time to write, so expect quick updates when I return (I hope.)**

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Bakura had not been in a good mood the rest of the day. Though Malik had stayed relatively quiet the entire day, the pale Brit was extremely pissed that he had to feed him. He couldn't exactly starve the brat, though he would have liked to.

'Just one more day, I'll be rid of him tomorrow,' Bakura told himself, rummaging through his pantry. He settled on the simplest thing he could make: canned soup. Being a hunter, Bakura was always cautious; it was part of the business. He let the soup cool to room temperature so it wouldn't burn him if Malik threw it back at him, and poured in a styrofoam bowl with a plastic spoon, giving Malik no sort of weapon. Though it didn't seem likely Malik knew how to fasten a weapon from a metal spoon, but Bakura chose to be on the safe side.

He picked up the tray that had the lukewarm soup -Chicken Noodle, as that was the first thing Bakura grabbed from the shelf- a plastic cup of water and a napkin, and brought it to the room where Malik was still sleeping.

'Damn,' Bakura thought. He gave Malik a shake. "Hey. Wake up," he said, his tone annoyed, but the Egyptian gave no sign of stirring. Bakura let out a growl. "Hey." He gave another shake, this one more forceful. "Wake up!" Bakura growled, setting the tray down to untie the gag still around Malik's mouth.

This time, Malik opened his eyes slightly, still groggy from sleep. He let out a grunt and looked up at Bakura, and suddenly his entire face lit up like a bulb.

"Who are you?! Why am I here?! I demand you let me go right now!" He yelled, staring wide eyed up at Bakura, trying his best to glare but only making himself look like a deer in headlights.

Bakura let out a chuckle, "Don't worry, I'll be getting rid of you tomorrow."

Malik opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Bakura's harsh growl.

"Eat," He ordered flatly, shoving the tray onto Malik's lap, almost so=pilling the water in doing so.

"Wait! I'm not eating until you-" But Malik was cut off when Bakura shut the door loudly and locked it, leaving Malik alone once again.

"What a charmer…" Malik grumbled, looking down at his food in disgust. "Meat. Wonderful. Asshole…" he mumbled. Being vegetarian was often an inconvenience, but not it was straight up aggravating. He was starving, and he was not about to pass up food.

'I'll eat around it, I guess,' he thought, picking up the plastic spoon and taking a spoonful of broth and noodle. It was a little difficult because one wrist was still handcuffed, but otherwise he ate feverously, devouring the soup and a bit of the cheap styrofoam from the bowl.

When he was done, he set the tray down of the floor. There were still chunks of chicken in the bowl, but otherwise he ate everything and drank the entire cup of water in about 2 minutes. He felt hungrier now than he did before he started. His cheeks were hurting with every movement and were horribly chaffed, flakes of skin peeling off every time Malik tried to scratch them. His back ached from the uncomfortable angle he was forced to sleep in due to his cuffed wrist, which was also painfully chafed, as well as from the lumpiness of the mattress. But overall things could be worse.

"I wonder what he's gonna do with me… He said he's getting rid of me tomorrow…" Malik shuttered at the though. He hoped 'getting rid of' did not mean what it sounded like. Malik surveyed the room, more able to think now that he had rested a bit and eaten. There was nothing he could use to get out of his cuffs, Bakura had been smart enough to give him a plastic spoon, and there was nothing he could reach. He tried wriggling out of the cuffs, but they were on too tight. He was stuck.

Wish a sigh, he laid back down on the lumpy bed. His thoughts drifted to his family. Did they even know he was gone? Isis and Rishid were supposed to come over next week and visit, but by then who knows what would happen to Malik. And he had no friends in the area that would come to check over him. He really was fucked over. There was nothing he could do but wait.

With these thoughts in mind, Malik drifted back into a restless slumber

...

Bakura sat in his room on his laptop, trying to take his mind off the brat that currently occupied his spare room. Just last through the kid's attitude tomorrow morning and it would all be fine. He could go back to being alone, which he enjoyed. But it wasn't all fixed; his reputation as top notch was ruined, so he would be lucky if anyone would pay him. Thinking that just made him want to punch the brat that started this, but even Bakura couldn't deny that it was not Malik's fault. Try as he might to convince himself otherwise, he only had himself to blame.

Angry and annoyed, Bakura shut his laptop with extra force, peeled off his trousers and went to bed. But even the luxuriousness of the mattress couldn't make his sleep at all restful.

…

Morning came all too soon for Malik and Bakura. The morning sun filtering in through the window was the most dreaded time of the day for Bakura, who hated the thought of getting up. And though Malik could not see any rays of light, he knew the dreaded morning had come. The morning that decided what would happen to him. Though he hoped he wouldn't be killed, any alternative would not be good for him; after all, letting him go was certainly not an option for his kidnapper.

Bakura decided to skip a shower today to gain an extra 15 minutes in bed, but soon had to get up. He dressed in his usual, casual close, a bit strange for somebody who lived in such expensive surroundings, and left the room.

"Coffee…I need coffee…" He mumbled groggily, still half asleep. He was never fully awake until he had at least a cup, and this morning he was especially tired. And it didn't help that he had the little problem in the spare room to deal with. With a yawn, he sipped the black elixir, enjoying the warm, caffeinated liquid running down his aching throat.

Wait…Aching?

With a grunt, Bakura opened his eyes all the way and found them to be itchy and heavy. He then noticed the dry feeling in his nose.

"Shit…" he mumbled, groaning dramatically. He was sick, no doubts about that. He growled and finished off his coffee, slamming the porcelain cup down in the sink. Luckily it didn't break.

He marched over to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He certainly looked sick. His face was paler than usual, and he had distinct, purple rings under his eyes. His nose was red and dry, contrasting with the rest of his face. He craned his neck up and noted that it also looked a little swollen.

"Fuck…" He groaned again. He washed his face with cold water, soothing his hot temperature and stinging his nose. "I look like a fucking zombie…"

With a sigh, he left the bathroom and returned to the kitchen. The muffin he put in the toaster had popped up and was now cool, But Bakura ate it anyway. The crunchiness felt good as it scratched against his throat.

"I'll have to take the kid soon, before I get any worse," he concluded, spinning on his heal off in the direction of Malik's room. He started towards it, expecting Malik would still be asleep. His expectation was correct, and he groaned when he realized that he would have to wake the boy up.

"Oi. Kid. Wake up. I'm not in the mood for this today," he stated blandly, noting the scratchiness of his voice.

Malik stirred and opened his eyes. With a groan he sat up, "Damn, I was hoping I was dreaming."

"I'm no dream, kid. Now get up."

"You're certainly not. And I can't get up because I'm cuffed to this goddamn bed," He growled irritably. He was doing his best to hide his fear of Bakura.

Bakura let out a low growl, "Don't think I won't kill you, stupid bastard." He took out a small key and unlocked the cuff from the bed, but he had it locked around Malik's other wrist sooner than Malik could make a break for it. "I'm not stupid. A dumb kid like you can't trick me."

"Stop calling me a kid, you sound just like my sister!" He snapped, a twinge of pain going through his chest when he mentioned his sister. "I'll have you know I'm 19!"

Bakura paused for a moment, then scoffed, "A kid. A stupid one, at that. You're only proving my point."

Malik looked dumbfounded for a moment before growling, not wanting to admit defeat.

"That's what I thought. Now get off your pretty little ass and come with me."

Malik got up angrily, then paused, "Pretty little ass?"

Bakura paused and his expression went flat, but a second later he looked away and grabbed Malik's arm to lead him out. "It's just an expression. I don't need to explain myself to you," He opened the front door and shoved Malik out, still holding him painfully tight as he locked the door with his free hand.

Malik rolled his eyes, "You don't need to grab my arm like that. How the hell am I going to run away?"

"Shut up and get in the damn car, brat," Bakura growled, really starting to get annoyed with Malik's attitude. He shoved the blonde into the car and slammed the door before climbing into the front seat and driving off.

"What are you going to do with me?" Malik asked firmly, but he couldn't help his faint curiosity from showing in his town.

"None of your business."

"I's all my business! It's my life!"

"Not for long if you don't shut the fuck up!" He growled, glaring at Malik through the rear view mirror. Malik knew enough to shut up for the time being.

After a while Bakura pulled into an empty lot in front of a dark pub, much like the one Malik had seen on their first encounter. There didn't seem to be any front sign, nor any people inside. It looked abandoned, but Bakura still dragged Malik out of the car and up the steps. He knocked in an odd pattern of the front door, and it swung open instantly.

"Come in, come in, 'urry up," Said a grumpy, cockney voice. This person was someone different from the buff man Bakura met the first night.

"Is he here?"

"Nah, da boss ain't 'ere. Said tu jus' drop da kid off an' 'he'd take care uh da res'."

"Fine by me. Watch it with this one, he's a biter," Bakura shoved Malik into the room and turned to leave.

"'Old on a minute. Da boss said 'e 'ad a job for you. Said it wus real important business. Said you gotta go see 'im right away."

Bakura rolled his eyes, "Whatever he wants," he tossed over his shoulder and started walking towards the exit.

"Hey! W-Wait! What are you gonna do with me?!" Malik yelled out, wide eyed.

"Not my problem. Have a nice day," he said sarcastically, slamming the door behind him.

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**I really like writing in cockney accents. I always imaging them sounding like that one guy from Professor Layton Unwound Future. The one that looks like a gorilla. I have a strange mind. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed! Please review, follow and favourite! Your feedback motivates me~**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm almost home from vacation now, just a few more days! I wanted to update sooner, but the cabin where I was staying had wi-fi slower than a snail. I'm not sure if I like this chapter, it felt a bit...choppy. But it is pretty long, so I hope you enjoy! Sorry for the wait! When I get home I plan to return to my regular updating schedule. Enjoy**

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It had been a week since Bakura dropped Malik off. It was a quiet week, surprisingly so given all the work that Bakura was expecting. He assumed the boss would be relentless, giving him tedious tasks and assignments. But Bakura had not received a word. Part of him was relieved, but another part was worried; after all, he knew he would never get off the hook for his mistake, so what was taking the boss so long?

Bakura shook the thought away and continued to watch the TV. It was always the same, filled with celebrities, economies, and terrorist activities. Nothing new. Nothing interesting. With a sigh, the he flipped off the TV. He really was bored; no work meant nothing to do. And he almost always was occupied with a job, be it hunting, pulling off a heist, or just simple surveillance work on a soon-to-be-hit location. But now he just sat around and waited for night to come so he could go to bed.

"Quite the existence I live," Bakura mused bitterly to himself. He got up and slipped on his white and blue sneakers and stepped outside into the cloudy afternoon.

"I can't stand it. Anything is better than sitting around all day." As if to answer him, his cell phone began buzzing in his pocket, playing a ringtone from a band that Bakura didn't even like anymore, but was a good enough ringtone for Bakura to leave it be. He roughly reached into his pocket and yanked out the vibrating device, sneering at the number. Or rather, the unfamiliar number. His boss was smart always changing his number every few weeks.

"About time you call," Bakura huffed.

"Tonight. The big pub, you know the place. Be there, and don't ask questions."

Bakura paused, then growled, "Are you _fucking kidding me?_ You want me to do _chores? _Couldn't you have informed me of this task _yesterday?_" How dare the bastard order him around like a child!

"I'm not in the mood for your griping. This is the first of many. If you were better at your profession, this would not be an issue." Bakura could practically see the smirk on the boss' face.

"Bastard," he growled and hung up, wanting to throw his mobile against the wall but not wanting to have to buy a new one so soon after he broke the last one. He had a short temper and was prone to chucking things that made him angry at things that would amuse him when they hit, be that a phone to a wall or a knife to a chest.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket angrily and carried on with his walk, kicking each and every rock that was on the sidewalk, even if he had to stretch his leg out awkwardly to reach it. After about fifteen minutes he finished the loop around the familiar, luxurious park filled with rich people and their dogs. Bakura hated people, and he especially hated people that treated their dogs like children. It was bad enough when parents treated their obnoxious kids like precious angels capable of no wrongs, but doing that with a stupid mutt was just idiotic. Evidently Bakura had no pets.

He made his way back into his house, unlocking the double locked door (his distrust for people showed itself outside his career, too) and stepped inside the darkness, locking it behind his again. Though it was broad daylight, the closed blinds among the scarce windows made sure the darkness stuck at all hours. Bakura liked the dark. He worked in the dark. He slept in the dark. He did most everything in the dark. He didn't understand how anyone could be afraid of the dark. After you get over the childish notion that there are spectres in the closet, the dark was satisfyingly peaceful.

Bakura sat idly on the edge of his bed, awaiting the time when the darkness would take back the sun into its depths, and he could once again be relaxed in his own element. But time was the ultimate slut, and it screwed everyone. Eventually time would once again deliver the orb of yellow light back into the sky, and Bakura would once again be jolted back into existence with the vague realization that today would be just another yesterday. And now that he had nobody to hunt, nothing to plan, nonentity to thieve, his existence was wrought with an uninterrupted uselessness and a perpetual pointlessness.

Eventually though, after hours of sitting, watching, thinking and reading, the night did come. Bakura threw on his coat, long and black, contrasting with his white hair that shone bright in the moonlight. He clambered into his car, likewise black as to camouflage with the night, and drove off.

"19:00. It should take about 45 minutes to get there," he said to himself. He had grown into the habit of talking to himself. Being a naturally reclusive person, he was the only one who truly understood himself, the only one who would listen.

After a while of driving, fraught with screaming insults at people who drove like they were drunk and retarded, and possibly 5, he finally arrived at his destination. Before he was even entirely out of the car, a voice rung in his ears.

"Gad you could make it." Bakura looked up, and the figure of his boss stared at him. His sarcasm hung in the air like fog.

"What's the deal with calling me out here on short notice?" Bakura growled.

"I had need of your services. We're short staffed this evening, and expecting a lot of guests."

Bakura stared at him for a short moment, then glared. "What the fuck! You call me out here to _wait on some fucking drunks?! _Fuck that shit, I'm not degrading myself like that," Bakura yelled, angrily climbing back into his car.

But the boss just laughed, "Would you rather talk to my _friends?_ You owe me, and you're paying it back, _one way or another._" Bakura knew that meant either he would do his tasks or he would become another head on his wall of victims. It was rumoured that he actually had a wall of the left knees of people who crossed him, though Bakura didn't know if that was true. He also didn't want to find out.

"Goddammit, fine" he growled, climbing out of the car and stomping past the smirking face of his boss and into the pub.

…

The pub was rather large, and had a basement with a stage and red curtain. Bakura had a feeling that the business of this pub was not just alcohol. The other staff made him changed into a black and white suit, quite itchy and stuffy for someone who was used to a T-shirt and jeans. But he didn't protest much because he supposed there was nothing he could do about the current situation.

Another waiter was filling him in on what was going on tonight, "Of all the time to be short staffed, tonight is a bad night. We're expecting to be packed because of the show, and-"

Bakura interrupted, "Show? What do you mean, show?"

The waiter paused, blinking at him, "You know, the sale."

Bakura looked back at him, annoyed, "If I didn't know what you were talking about before, why would calling it a sale help?"

The man just coughed, "Well, we're selling off a bunch of people. An auction, so to speak."

"An…auction?" Bakura paused a second, then growled, "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" He yelled, startling the waiter and storming off up the stairs. He grabbed the shoulder of the boss and spun him around, glaring, "Sex trafficking?! Are you kidding?! Of all the things to drag me into, why this?!"

The boss just smirked back "What, your morals getting in the way? If you have a problem with the _business_ then I can direct you to the _complaints desk._"

Bakura glared harder and gritted his teeth, "You disgust me. You better not drag me into this. I never want to be part of this again."

"I'll keep that in mind when I assign your next task."

Bakura stomped away, trying his hardest not to punch the smirking bastard square in the jaw. He was beyond pissed. It was bad enough that he was being assigned degrading chores when he was one of the best criminals in the country, but of all the things it had to be the most disgusting thing possible. His boss was truly a despicable person. Bakura was no saint, but he would never sink so low as to make a few thousand by selling off some unfortunate and supposedly innocent people.

At least it wasn't him, though.

…

It was well into the night now, and the pub was certainly packed. Mostly rich old men, waving around their bids in one hand and their drinks in the other. Bakura mostly spent his time taking orders, half of which were yelled at him across the room in drunken slurs that he couldn't understand, though if he got the order wrong the men were too drunk to notice. He did his best to ignore the various people in cuffs brought up on stage. They all looked dizzy and confused, most likely they had been drugged, and one after another they were dragged on stage, sold to the highest bidder.

Bakura scrunched his nose when a young blonde girl was sold for 650,575 pounds. It was disgusting to Bakura, a profession he would never partake in. Killing was one thing, kidnapping was one thing, but even he was not that huge a low life. He had some sense of human sympathy.

The entire thing carried on for hours. They must have sold fifty people. 'Almost done. It's three in the morning. They're almost done,' Bakura repeated in his head, awaiting the time he could go home and be done with this madness.

But that wish would not be granted.

Up on the stage was one of the last people. A young blonde man, lavender eyes glazed over in a drugged cloud, tanned skin looking pale. It was Malik, the kid Bakura had dropped off just a week before! No, no, no, this was not possible! Bakura stated up at him, ignoring the man he was just taking an order from.

Bakura couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. How could he have forgotten about that kid? How could he have not realized that he would be here? It made perfect sense, they had to do something with him. How could Bakura not put two and two together?

Guilt washed over Bakura like a wave. He had kidnapped many people, and no doubt horrible things had happened to them, but they were all criminals, murderers, people that had made deals with other criminals and then run away so they didn't have to pay them back. Bakura had no sympathy for them. But Malik was innocent of those crimes. He was different. He did nothing wrong. And Bakura had delivered him into the hands of other criminals. The guilt of the situation churned his stomach, making him feel disgusted with himself. Was he no better than the low-lifes running the entire operation?

Bakura watched as the exotic young man was sold for a high price, to a gruff, muscular man. He knew his stature matched his personality because of all the things that were yelled at him by the bastard. Surely Malik would not have a pleasant time in the hands of such a man.

Thought swam through Bakura's head as the auction finished. What would he do? He couldn't just _leave _Malik like that. It was _his own_ fault this was happening. No way could he live with himself knowing he had taken a part in this.

Deep in his own thoughts, he didn't hear the boss behind him until he grunted loudly. Bakura spun around and glared.

"Heh. Nice job tonight."

"Shut the fuck up," Bakura growled, hating the huge smirk plastered on the man's face.

"Watch it. You might just end up in the next show," he cackled and walked off, leaving Bakura steaming, wanting so much to mess up the man's face but knowing that he would mess himself up even more in doing so. He turned and went to the men's room and changed back into his regular clothes. Hands jammed in his pocket, he walked out the back where some 'customers' were still filing out with their 'merchandise'.

'Dammit…' Bakura swore at himself. He looked up, and his eyes widened for the umpteenth time that night. There was the man that bought Malik! The young Egyptian looked slightly awake now. A large, purple bruise, one that wasn't there before, was forming on his cheek. Evidently he had been struggling before, but quickly his small revolution was put down.

Bakura moved without even thinking. Walking up calmly to the man, he pulled out his gun.

"Hey."

The man turned, glaring. "Oi, what the fuck do you want-"

Bakura shot him quick, only once in the head, and he fell, releasing the rope. Malik screamed, and backed away from Bakura. Panic shot through him. Oh shit. He just shot a guy. In a parking lot filled with criminals who no doubt armed. He had to get away!

"Shut up!" he growled, taking out a knife. He cut the rope that tied his wrists together. "I'm trying to help you, so stop screaming! If you don't stop, we're not gonna make it out of here!" He yelled, grabbing Malik by the arm and taking off running in the direction of his car, which, lucky for him, was parked away from where all the others were. A gunshot rung out behind him and he felt the bullet whiz by him.

"Shit! Get in the fucking car!" He screamed, shoving Malik roughly into the car. He slammed the car door shut just as another bullet hit the car door. He put the key in the ignition, and the car jumped to life. Bakura backed out of the parking spot, going so fast he almost ran into the other curb. He sped off towards the exit road, coming close to hitting three people who managed to jump out of the way of the car currently tripling the speed limit.

Bakura wiped the sweat from his brow as he sped down the highway, thoughts racing through his head.

Not a single one was positive.

* * *

**If you can't already tell, I'm not British. I've been to London once. But I wanted to write this in a British style to match the setting. Sorry if it seems off a bit. Please review! Your feedback is extremely helpful and motivating! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello again! Here's chapter 5! Enjoy!**

* * *

Malik Ishtar had no intentions of keeping quiet this time.

"What the hell! What do you want from me?!"

"Shut up," Bakura growled irritably. He was under a lot of stress at the moment, knowing he had only a few hours until he had to be far away from here.

"No! First you kidnap ma, then you hold me hostage and deliver me to those perverts, and now you kidnap me again and are taking me to god knows where!"

"Shut. Up! Do you not think I know how much trouble I'm in?!"

"Then why did you do that? Why didn't you just let me be sold to that bastard? You fucking killed him! And the police will think that I was involved because they'll think I ran off with you!"

"Fucking shut up! The police are the least of your worries! Do you think the organization will take it lightly that I killed one of their regulars and ran off with his property?! I was in enough trouble already! Now, if you'll please shut up, I have to think of a plan to get the fuck away from here."

Malik looked offended, "I am nobody's _property_!" Bakura just ignored him and went on thinking. Neither spoke until Bakura pulled up next to his house.

"Why the hell are we here? This is the most obvious place for them to check first!"

"Shut up. We have about thirty minutes until they show up here, and I intend to be gone by that point. Don't bother trying to run away, you'll be caught and killed by them faster than you could find any police station," Bakura explained sternly.

"Then let me come in."

Bakura paused and turned his head back to look at the tanned boy, "What?"

"Let me come in and help you pack. I hate you and want to get away from you, but I sure as hell don't want to get killed. If I help then this will go faster."

Bakura hesitated for a moment, then nodded, "Alright. Come on."

Malik unbuckled opened the car door and stepped out, shaking his head, "I really can't believe I'm helping you."

Bakura just rolled his eyes and turned to walk into the house, Malik following after, having an internal fight of whether or not to make a run for it. In the end he decided against it. They both entered the dimly lit house. Bakura closed the door behind them, not bothering to lock it.

"You go into my room; it's down that hall, second door to the left. Inside my closet are two large suitcase. Throw as many clothes as you can into it."

"And what are you going to do?"

Bakura raised an eyebrow and opened a closet, pulling out a dusty duffel bag, "I'm going to get all the money I have in the house and all the food I can. Then we're both going to calmly walk out of here like we're going on a trip."

Malik nodded and went into Bakura's room. Bakura carried the duffel bag into the kitchen and threw in all the food he had that wouldn't go bad, meaning cans, bottles of water, crackers, crisps, tea, and instant foods that they could just add hot water to when they got to a hotel. Satisfied with what he had, the carried the now heavy bag into the laundry room. He pushed on a part of the wall, and it swung out to reveal a compartment with a large, square safe in it.

"54, 23, 7, 88, 49," he mumbled to himself, turning the dial. The safe opened easily, revealing a stock of money that added up to at least 250,000 pounds, "That should be plenty," Bakura said, nodding to himself and throwing all the money into the bag. He looked at his watch. Twenty minutes had gone by. He quickly carried the bag out to the front room.

"Are you done yet?" He called.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Malik yelled back, rolling both suitcases with him, "I also grabbed two unopened toothbrushes and toothpaste."

Bakura rolled his eyes, "This is really no time to worry about that sort of stuff, idiot. Did you grab a hairbrush and your makeup, too?" Bakura teased, mocking his femininity.

Malik glared back at him, "Fuck you, let's just go."

Bakura nodded and picked up his bag, opening the door and walking out to the car. Malik followed, closing the door behind him.

"I'm not going to bother locking it, they'll just open it in no time anyway," Bakura said over his shoulder, shoving the bag across the back seats. Malik didn't reply and lifted the two suitcases into the car, both barely fitting in the already cramped back of the car.

"Get in the front," Bakura ordered.

"Where the hell else would I sit?" Malik shot back, climbing irritably into the seat next to Bakura.

Bakura glared and started the car, zooming away at what must have been twice the speed limit.

…

After a while, Malik spoke again, "Where are we going?"

"Away," Bakura replied, not taking his eyes of the road. They had left London about ten minutes ago.

Malik rolled his eyes, "What does _away_ mean?"

"It means we're going to drive as much as we can, then get a hotel and think of what to do next."

"So we're just going to keep driving? You have no actual plan?"

Bakura glared at Malik, then turned his eyes back to the road, "As if you have anything better."

Malik turned his head to look out the window, "I don't."

"Then shut up and let me drive."

…

Neither talked for a few hours. Malik just focused on watching the countryside fly past him as he left his life behind, trying hard not to let himself fall asleep lest Bakura try something on him. Bakura just tried to ignore Malik and kept driving, thinking about what they could possibly do in their situation. He would have to switch out cars, he couldn't drive his own anymore. That would cost him a huge chunk of his money, and he couldn't take any money out of his bank account or use his credit card, because that would give the organization a hint to his location. And Malik sure as hell didn't have any accessible money. What was he even going to do with the guy?

"I have a lecture right now," Malik said suddenly, looking sullen.

"What?"

"At my university, I have a lecture right now. I'm missing it."

Bakura looked irritated, "You're worried about a bloody lecture? Your life is in danger right now, you know."

"I know. But I've worked hard in that university. Now my siblings have spent all that money and I'm just going to disappear."

"Siblings?" Bakura asked, a twinge of guilt eating at his stomach.

"My brother and sister."

"Where are they? Did you live with them?" In other words, Bakura was asking if they were also now in danger because of him.

Malik shook his head, "They're in Egypt. They sent me here to attend University."

"Idiot! Why didn't you tell me?!" Bakura yelled, angry all of a sudden.

Malik was surprised at Bakura's sudden outburst and sat upright, "Why the fuck are you yelling at me! There wasn't exactly any time for me to tell you my life story!"

"Well if you would have told me you had siblings in another country I could have saved myself the trouble of stressing over where the hell we're supposed to go!"

Malik paused for a second, "What do you mean?"

"I _mean _that we could lay low for a while then fly over to Egypt and stay with them."

"No! I'm not letting you go over than and put them in danger!"

"The last place they'll expect us to go is somewhere in Egypt! We just have to avoid getting caught for a month or so then fly over there!"

"No," Malik said flatly.

"Why not?" Bakura growled.

"Because I'm not letting a dangerous criminal like you near my siblings."

Bakura glared angrily, "I'm not going to try anything. Besides, what other choice do we have?"

"Stop it with the 'we'! There is no we! As soon as this dies down I'm leaving. You act like I'm going to stay with you!" Malik snapped back, balling his fists in anger.

"Like hell! I'm not letting you leave and tell the police on me!"

"Fuck you! I'm not going to tell the police, I'm now a criminal because I've helped you! I'm just going to leave and we can both act like this never happened. You can't just keep me with you for the rest of my life!"

"You'll be caught and killed the second you leave my side. I know them and how they work, and you don't."

"Don't be stupid. I'm leaving the country with you, and the second we land I'm out of here."

Bakura growled, getting frustrated with Malik's stubbornness, "Fine. I don't care about you, I'm not going to play babysitter. I'll put you on a different fucking flight than me and hopefully I can be lucky enough to never see you again!"

Malik glared and turned away from him, "There's a hotel up there. Let's stop, we've been driving all day."

"Whatever," Bakura snarled, seething with anger as he pulled into the parking lot.

* * *

**I know where this is all going, but I'm not sure how long it will take to get there. I will try to update as often as I can, but I've recently decided to pick back up a story that I put on hiatus for over a year, so that might slow things a bit. Thanks for reading, and please don't forget to review! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Enjoy Chapter 6! I have a crapton of homework I haven't even started on yet tonight because I was busy writing. #Priorities.**

* * *

Bakura pulled up to in the parking lot of an old inn. It was small, smaller than a hotel, but normal size for an inn as old as it looked to be. The walls were stained green and covered in ivy.

"Why do we have to stay in this shitty place?" Malik complained.

"You're the one who bitched about being sick of driving, plus you even pointed this place out. So shut up and help me get the bags," Bakura growled irritably, popping the truck on his black 2012 Lotus Evora S, now sporting several bullet wounds from their previous incident.

Malik growled, "I only saw the sign from the highway. And fuck you, carry your own goddamn bags."

Bakura rolled his eyes, too tired from the day's past events to argue with the moody Egyptian. Reluctantly Malik took one of the suitcases while Bakura took the duffel bag and the other suitcase. They entered into what looked to be the check-in office, a small room with a TV playing the news and some worn out old sofas that neither of them would want to sit on. They were standing on a red, stained old carpet. The lady at the front desk, old and wrinkled, hair almost as white as Bakura's, didn't look up from her magazine when they entered.

Malik stepped up before Bakura could talk, fearing he might say something rude, "Excuse me."

The lady looked up through large spectacles, eyes magnified by their thickness, "Yes?"

"Uh, my…" He tossed a look over at Bakura, searching for the right word. Bakura only glared back, "my friend and I need a room," he said bluntly.

She gave them a look and nodded, "Do you have a reservation?" She asked.

"No," he replied. _We just narrowly escaped with our lies from a bunch of gang members and are now running across the country. When would we have time to make a fucking reservation? _He thought.

The woman sighed, "Let me see if there's a room open for you," she said, typing on her ancient looking computer.

_The place is empty, we were the only car in the parking lot. Of course there will be an open room,_ Malik thought impatiently.

"We have a room, will you be paying with credit or cash?"

Bakura stepped in impatiently, "Cash. How much?"

"80 pounds per night."

Bakura pulled his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out the money and handed it to the woman, who took it eagerly with shaky, spotted hands.

She handed them a key from her rack, "Your room is room 3, just left of this building. Thank you for staying with us," she said in a monotone, I-could-die-at-any-second-because-I'm-so-old voice and went back to her tabloids.

Malik and Bakura exited the small building, finding room three (which was actually to the right, not the left) and inserting the rusted key. It turned with a click and the heavy, forest green door creaked open, revealing a dark, musty room. It was similar to the office room in that it had the same stained red carpet and torn up old furniture. The whitewashed walls were turning green from age and disrepair. They didn't dare even try the plumbing at the moment. But the thing most striking was the bed. _The _bed, as in one single bed.

"Why the hell is there only one bed?" Malik asked, groaning. Obviously there had been some misunderstanding between them and the front desk lady.

"I don't know, but I'm not sharing a bed with you," Bakura stated, putting down his bags and sitting down on the bed, trying to ignore the musty stench and cloud of dust that erupted from the offended material.

"I couldn't agree more. You take the couch," He stated, sitting down on the opposite side of the double, sending a glare at Bakura.

Bakura glared back, "No fucking way am I taking the couch! I'm paying for the room, so I get the bed."

"And I'm the one who's slept on the cold floor of a cramped cage for the past week! I'm not sleeping on that pile of shit couch," he stated firmly, crossing his arm.

Bakura groaned, feeling a twinge of guilt, and stood up, "Don't move. I'm going to go get a different room," he growled, glaring one last time before leaving.

Malik just rolled his eyes and surveyed the now solitary room. For the first time in over a week Malik felt like he was free. No eyes watching him, no feeling of danger settling like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Nothing but him and his own thoughts. Malik only wished it could last longer. He had spent the last week locked up at some secluded location, barely fed, alone in a dark, cramped cage, and now he was fleeing the country, his home, with his kidnapper. He must be insane. Malik longed to be completely free from their grasp.

He sighed. _As if that'll ever happen now. _And he was right. He could never go home. He would always have to live knowing there were people out to kill him if they ever saw him, if he ever stepped foot in London again. He never liked it there, but at least he had a somewhat stable life and some semblance of freedom.

After a while Bakura came back, slamming the door behind him in a fit of anger.

"They don't have any two-bed rooms," he growled.

"What? What do you mean?"

"What I just said, idiot! They only have one-bed rooms."

"I'm _not _sharing a bed with you," Malik declared stubbornly.

"Well I'm not sleeping on that couch," Bakura shot back. Both glared, neither backed down. In the end Malik gave up, not wanting to deal with the pale man's bitching. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up under the covers of a real bed, and lay his head on a real pillow.

"Fine. You can have half the bed, it's a double anyway. But don't you dare molest me in my sleep."

"As if I would ever want to molest you," he shot back, stripping out of his shirt and trousers until he was just in his boxers.

"Really? Because you're practically stripping for me right now. I hope you don't plan to _sleep _like that."

Bakura rolled his eyes, "If you choose to interpret that way, so be it. Shows you're pretty desperate. And yes, I was planning on sleeping in this."

Malik glared, "I'm _not _desperate. And you're insane if you think I'm sleeping in the same bed as you when you're only in your boxers."

"Take the floor then," Bakura stated flatly, slipping under the covers. It was well past midnight and he really wanted some sleep.

Malik just growled and stripped off his trousers. Or, that is, the ones he borrowed from Bakura because his hadn't been cleaned in a week, "I guess I you won't mind if I seep naked, then."

Bakura sat upright, glaring in disgust, "Don't even think about that, you freak."

Malik just shrugged, "It's how I'm most comfortable. Why should you get to be comfortable when I'm not?"

Bakura groaned and got up, "Fine, I'll put on something else," he surrendered, too tired for more arguing. He dug around in the suitcase and pulled on a pair of black athletic shorts and an old, red t-shirt, "Happy?" He growled.

Malik grinned condescendingly, "Ecstatic," he said, taking off his shirt and going over to the suitcase to get something to wear to bed.

"Woah…" He heard Bakura say.

Malik scowled, unsure of what Bakura said, "What?"

"That back tattoo must have cost a fortune," he said, staring.

Malik's eyes widened as he spun around, hiding his back from Bakura's eyes, "That was nothing. Forget it."

"No. Where did you get it? Back in Egypt?"

"It was a long time ago, just drop it. Why do you even care?" Malik said quickly, not wanting to discuss. How could he have been so stupid to _forget_ about his back for a second?

Bakura shrugged, "Why would I not be? It's a tattoo with a bunch of symbols and pictures, on your back of all places. Anybody would be at least slightly curious."

"Well, it's nothing. Just leave it alone," he declared, glaring at Bakura.

Bakura didn't take the hint, "Well if you didn't want people to ask you about it you shouldn't have gotten the tattoo in the first place!"

Malik's anger flared, "Fuck you! These weren't my choice to get, asshole! Not shut up and leave it alone!" He yelled.

Bakura had no intention of backing down, his curiosity spiking, "What do you mean they weren't your choice? It was one of those drunken things? That's still a choice."

"Goddammit, can't you just drop it? My dad made them, okay? They're not tattoos, they're scars. My dad _carved _them into my fucking _skin_ with a hot knife. Happy now?"

Bakura didn't respond, a look of surprise on his face. He was not expecting an answer like that. He wasn't even sure if he believed him, but there was a sort of fire in Malik's eyes that burned with pained sincerity. Bakura decided it best to drop it at this point, "Whatever. Just hurry up and get dressed so we can turn off the lights."

Malik glared and quickly pulled on a purple shirt and a pair of exercise shorts, just like Bakura's except blue. He turned off the light and slipped into bed, making sure to be as far away from Bakura as possible. He laid his head on the pillow and fell asleep almost instantly.

It had indeed been a tiring day for the both of them.

…

When Malik woke up in the morning, he was greeted with a soft tickle in his face. It was soft and soothing, making Malik relax and slip back into sleep. He became aware of a warmth that enveloped him, lulling him into a dreamlike state. He felt his arms wrapped about something smooth, like a pillow, but firmer than a pillow. The fabric felt almost like…

Malik's eyes shot open, and he was blinded in a mess of white. He screamed and pushed the offending object away. It let out a scream as it fell off the bed. _Oh, shit…_

"What the fuck!" Bakura yelled, rubbing his head from where he hit it on the floor, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"With me?! You're the one who was touching me!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Bakura yelled, glaring at him.

"You had your arms around me! I told you last night that this was my side of the bed, and that was yours!"

"Well excuse me, but it looks like you're on my side and _you_ were molesting _me."_

Malik opened his mouth to protest before realizing that it was true, he was indeed on Bakura's side, "Well, you were still touching me! What, were you trying to feel my up in my sleep, pervert?"

"Like hell! You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Why the fuck would I like that?! Just don't touch me anymore!"

"I actively avoid it," Bakura growled, looking at the clock, which read ten until eleven. They had slept in, "Shit, we need to go."

"Whatever. You're just changing the subject," Malik said, digging through the suitcase for some clothes, "I want to take a shower."

"Wecan't stay in the same place for so long while I still have my same car. Once we get to the next city and I get a new car we can worry about hygiene."

"You're not the one who just spent a week locked in a cage. I want to take a shower."

A twinge of guilt shot through Bakura, but he quickly supressed it and sighed, "Make it quick."

Malik nodded and went into the bathroom. Shitty plumbing and no hot water or not, he was going to wash the past week off himself. _Now if only I could wash away this week altogether and go home…. _

Malik enjoyed the feeling of the water cascading down his body, washing the grime out of his hair. He used all the complimentary shampoo and conditioner that was in the bathroom, as well as almost the entire bar of soap. When he turned off the water he felt refreshed and awake. He didn't have a hair dryer or his khol, but the feeling of being clean was enough for now.

When Malik was dressed and exited the bathroom, Bakura had already finished packing up all their things and checked out of their room. Both got in the car and drove away, neither saying a word.

* * *

**Yay! Cliche yaoi moment! I don't actually know when I'm going to officially start the thiefshipping, but it will be soon. In the next few chapters I will have some awkwardly romantic and some angsty parts, so look forward to that! Please review because you reviews are like porn and you need to satisfy your urges.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**I know I'm late. But please don't hate me. I wroted teh chappie...**

* * *

After about an hour of driving, Malik spoke up, "I want to call my brother and sister when we get to the next hotel."

"I thought you didn't want to drag them into this?" Bakura asked after a long pause, eyes still fixated on the road.

"It can't hurt to call them. Just so they don't get worried when I don't answer the home phone. They must be really worried, I haven't talked to them in over a week and a half…"

Bakura narrowed his eyes and snorted, making his opinion of the idea quite clear, "And what are you gonna tell them, exactly? 'Oh, hello, brother dearest, yeah, it's all good, I'm just on the run from a group of criminals who want to kill me. How's your day been?' Even you must think that sounds stupid."

Malik blew air out of his nose in annoyance, "You forgot the part where I'm kidnapped and sold into sex slavery, only to be kidnapped again and forced to leave my home forever."

Bakura humphed, ignoring the twinge of guilt in his gut, "Whatever. I guess you can call them."

"I wasn't asking your permission," Malik said quickly, glaring in Bakura's direction.

"Then why did you bring it up?" Bakura shot back, looking annoyed.

"…Because I need money to use the phone at the hotel," He mumbled after a pause, looking away. It hadn't occurred to Bakura that Malik didn't have any money, but it made perfect sense; Malik's wallet and everything he had on him were taken away that night, and it's not like he ever had the chance to go home.

Bakura sighed, "Fine. Just tell them you're phone broke or something and you couldn't call them."

"They're going to know something's up. The university has probably called and told them I haven't been attending classes. I'm not gonna be able to lie my way out of this."

Bakura thought for a moment, but drew a blank for the moment, "Well, you better think of something. Because you're sure as hell not telling them the truth."

"No fucking duh," Malik mumbled, eyes returning to the window as he watched the dull countryside fly by him. The sky was cloudy, and Malik dully noted that it was definitely colder here than in London, even with the heater on.

It was another of hour before Bakura got into an exit ramp. The sign said they were in Newcastle upon Tyne. _Wow, _Malik thought, _no wonder it's so cold…We're really far north…_

"Hey," Malik said, "How come we came here? It's fucking cold as hell…"

"I have a friend here. He owns a car dealership."

"He's not one of them, is he?"

Bakura rolled his eyes, "You think I would be coming here to him if he was? He'll sell me a car for cheap because he owes me a favour-"

"For what?" Malik interrupted, curiosity getting the better of him.

Bakura smirked, remembering the good times, "Oh, nothing big. Anyway, I'll get a new car and I'll have him forge some passports for us. It'll take him a few days, so we'll have to hide out for a while longer."

"What do we need passport for?"

"To take an aeroplane?" Bakura said, giving him a look as he drove along a relatively busy road, lined with houses.

"Oh…" Malik sighed. He wasn't familiar with the methods of travel; when his siblings sent him off to Egypt he went by boat. How was he supposed to know he needed a passport to go on an aeroplane too? "No need to treat me like I'm an idiot."

"You are an idiot," Bakura stated. Malik glared in response, but didn't say anything. Bakura pulled into the parking lot of a big car dealership. All around there were hundreds of cars, all different makes and models. Bakura stopped in front of the entrance when a tall, blonde man came out to great them. He was dressed in a blue suit that was contrasted with a red tie, making him look business-like. Bakura rolled down the tinted window of his car, looking him in the eye. The man's expression deadpanned.

"Aw, damn… I thought I was gonna get to make a sale," the man sighed, crossing his arms. He smirked at Bakura, "I heard about you. Quite the daredevil, huh? I thought you might turn up here."

Bakura didn't look surprised, "What'd the offer you?"

"Couple thousand. Not enough. They've told everybody about you. You're lucky you and I are old friends, or else I'd be turning your ass in the moment I saw you," he laughed. It was then that he noticed Malik in the other seat, "So this is the kid you ran off with, huh? I can see why…" He trailed off, looking Malik over, elbows resting on the window of the car. The Egyptian shrunk back in response, feeling uncomfortable with the man's penetrating green eyes. "Tell you what. Trade me the car and the kid, and I'll give you a brand new 2014 Jaguar XFR-S for a bargain," He said with a smirk and a wink.

Bakura scoffed, "Tempting, but don't think so. I want the cheapest car you have."

He sighed, "Cheap, shitty cars don't suit you. Come on, I'm telling you it's a great car. You'll love it."

"Liam. Not. Interested," Bakura stated firmly. The man now names Liam rolled his eyes.

"Oh, fine. You're as stubborn as always… I suppose you also want a fake ID?"

Bakura smirked, "Fake passports. One for him, too."

"Yeah, now you're talking! I knew you wouldn't bother me if all you needed was a stupid car."

"I take it you don't get to do much these days?"

"Nah, it's slow up here. Boring. It was more fun when you and I worked together on all that pink panther stuff…" He trailed off again, nostalgia in his tone. Malik's eyes widened. _Pink panther? Like, the organized crime gang?_

"Well, I'm afraid we won't be working together anymore. I'm leaving the country."

"I can't believe you threw it all away over some dumb kid," Liam sighed, receiving an angry glare from Malik.

"I'm _not _a dumb kid," Malik growled.

"It speaks! This one's a keeper, Bakura," he winked, making Bakura flush as he remembered how he woke up this morning.

"Fuck you," Bakura growled.

Liam clicked his tongue, "Language, Bakura."

Bakura just rolled his eyes again, "Let's just hurry this up. I need to get a new car soon, and I still have to check in to a hotel. So try to make it snappy with those IDs."

"Sure, whatever. I suppose you'll want the car for free?"

"Hell yes. You owe me after I saved your ass from life in prison."

"I would not have gotten life!" He shot back. Bakura got out of the car, ignoring Liam. He beckoned for Malik to get out, and the Egyptian did slowly. He didn't like the idea of being around two criminals alone, though he knew neither of them wold hurt him. Much.

"I don't plan on keeping this car for long, I just need it for transportation for a few days while you make the passports. After that I'll be abandoning it when I leave the country."

"Yeah, I figured as much. Where're you headed?"

Bakura shook his head, smirking, "As if I would tell you."

Liam acted like he was hurt, dramatically holding his hand over his heart, "Oh, 'Kura, you don't trust me?"

Bakura growled, and shot Liam a fierce glare, "_Don't _call me that. You know I hate it."

Liam just laughed, "Hence the reason I use it. Now, this is the cheapest car I have right now. She's used, but I think she still runs. A plus is that it only has 35,000 miles on it! Although I hope you don't plan to go more than 4000 miles more, the Yugo usually self destructs at about 40,000…." he said, scratching the back of his head. The thing was a nasty shade of rusted orange and looked like it kicked up more smog than all the cars in the country combined. Not that Bakura really cared about the environment. Bakura ran his hand over the chipped paint on the exterior, looking with distaste at the inside. It smelled of cigarettes and had stains scattered all around the worn interior, and the seats were tearing. But as long as it would start up, it was good enough.

"You're now seriously expecting me to ride in that pile of crap, are you?" Malik chimed in, looking with distaste at the pile of scrap.

"So sorry, princess. I didn't realize you were so high maintenance," Bakura said sarcastically, "But limousines are a bit high profile for somebody who's trying to disappear, don't you think?"

Malik glared at him, "Fuck you."

"Girls, you're both pretty," Liam butted in, earning a bitter glare from both Malik and Bakura, "Now, about that car…"

"I'll take it. Are the keys in your office?" Bakura said, irritation growing with every minute. He just wanted the damn car already so he could leave.

"Eager, huh? Yeah, they're in my office. Just pull your car around back and I'll give you the keys."

"That sounds rather suspicious," Bakura pointed out, only half-teasingly.

Liam rolled his eyes, "It hurts that we've grown so far apart these days. You don't even trust me anymore…" he joked, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

Bakura scoffed as he turned and walked back to his car, beckoning Malik to come, "Please, I never trusted you."

…

After a short while of trying and failing to get Bakura to buy a fancy car at a slashed price, Liam finally gave in and handed Bakura the keys to the rusty old Yugo 55. In turn Bakura gave his car keys to Liam, who took them excitedly.

"It's not often someone trades such a nice car for a pile of shit like that," he beckoned to the orange pile of economically-minded scrap.

"These are special circumstances. How much for the other stuff?"

"Well the IDs won't take long, only a day or so. But passports have to be flawless. That'll cost you. I'd say about 7000. Each. And you'll have to give me at least 4 days."

Bakura grimaced, "I was afraid of that."

"What, you can't pay?"

"No, I can, I just was hoping not to spend a fortune."

"Well, you could get them cheaper from someone else, but they'd be shit quality and would land you a minimum of 10 years in prison. Not to mention the whole kidnapping charge."

Bakura rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Just make them good and I'll pay your price."

…

Bakura and Malik got in the car and drove off, Malik complaining that it was so cold and the car didn't have a heater.

"What did you expect? This car is more than 50 years old."

Malik sighed, "What hotel are you checking in to?"

"I can't check into a hotel until we have our IDs. We're gonna have to sleep in the car for the night while we wait for him to finish."

"You've got to be fucking kidding! How come you could get a room at that motel and not one at a hotel here?"

"Because that place was in the middle of nowhere. They don't ask for IDs if you slip them some extra cash. But hotels are much more secure, regulations and all that. I'll need an ID even if I do pay in cash. And they don't take bribes," Bakura explained, annoyance in his tone.

"We'll fucking freeze to death in this car overnight!"

"It's not that cold. You'll be fine, I have some blankets in the back."

"I hate you," Malik groaned.

"The feeling's mutual."

"Excuse me, but I think I have a much more legitimate reason to hate you than you have to hate me."

"You've successfully ruined my life. I think that's a pretty good reason."

"_I _ruined _your _life?! How about you ruined it yourself! You're the idiot who kidnapped me when I wasn't even the person you were looking for! And not only that, but you just handed me over to those freaks like nothing!"

Bakura growled, signalling Malik to shut up, "I saved you from that didn't I?"

"I would have never been in that situation if it weren't for you! I would be at my apartment, attending university, I would actually have a fucking life!"

"Sounds like a shitty life to me. Come on, you hate England. You hate that it's so cold, you hate the city, you hate the people. And you especially hate attending that university. What were you even studying? Probably some bullshit you weren't even interested in. Don't fool yourself."

Malik was silent for a long time. It was all true, and he knew it. He hated World History, but his sister insisted he study it so he could work at the museum she was partners with just so he was guaranteed a job. He hated never getting to be alone in the cramped city. He hated his grimy, water stained, bug infested excuse for an apartment. He especially hated the coldness that reminded him so much of those long, winter nights living underground with no blanket or anything to keep him warm. All Malik wanted was to live his life how he wanted. No more living under somebody's control.

"You don't know anything about me," Malik mumbled, averting his eyes.

"I think I've figured you out quite well, Malik Ishtar."

Malik just sighed, "I don't want to go back to Egypt."

"Of course you don't. Just another controlling government trying to tell you who you can and can't be. Am I right?" Malik winced. _Is it really that obvious I'm gay?_

"You just want to live your life on your own. No more bullshit getting in your way. Right?"

Malik just nodded, not looking at Bakura. The pale man said no more, knowing his point had been made.

"I know they think they're helping me, but they're just butting in to my life. I didn't want to come here to England. I didn't want to go to university. But they think they know what's best for me."

"Where are you gonna go, then? What are you planning to do?"

Malik just shook his head again, "I have no idea."

"You should probably think of something in the next few days. Because you're certainly not sticking around with me. And I still have to buy the aeroplane ticket."

Malik snorted, "As if I would ever want to," _Although you're the only one who's ever understood me…_

"Whatever."

Malik decided to pry into Bakura's life a little. If Bakura got to know about him, then he should get to know about Bakura, "What about your family? Aren't you leaving anyone behind?"

Bakura's features tensed up, and he didn't take his eyes off the road as he spoke, "You're not getting anything out of me."

"Oh, come on. It can't hurt to tell me a little bit about yourself."

"Drop it," Bakura growled.

Malik sighed, supposing he would just have to live without knowing anything about the pale man to the right of him. _Whatever. It's not like I really care, anyway. After the next few days I'll never have to see him again. _

But for some reason the thought made his stomach feel queasy.

* * *

***sighs* I need a beta... **


	8. Chapter 8

**Yay! New chappie! And it's longer than normal!**

* * *

To say that Malik hated the cold was an understatement. He absolutely loathed it, despised the pinprick feeling on his skin where the cold air touched him. The only thing he missed about Egypt was the warmth. The cold made him feel empty, like a hollow shell void of emotion. And though he was always like that, always hollow and alone, the cold made him acknowledge the fact. It reminded him of cold nights underground in the past, and of the frigid feeling he felt in his heart whenever he thought of the unknown future. He liked the warmth because it covered up the emptiness. It filled him with artificial, fake emotions that he could at least pretend were real. Malik shivered, a small groan escaping him.

"Will you just shut the fuck up already?" A voice growled. Malik's groaning had kept him awake for the last hour and a half. After the first 40 minutes, Bakura gave one of his blankets to the boy, so Bakura had one and Malik had three, but it still wasn't enough.

"I'm cold!" Malik complained.

"I gave you one of my blankets! What more could I possibly do?" Bakura groaned, sending a glare Malik's way.

"Snuggle with me," Malik said without thinking. His eyes widened at his own sentence.

Bakura rolled his eyes, but nevertheless his expression moulded from a glare to the look you gave someone who just suggested something incredibly strange, "I don't care if you keep my up all night. I am _not _going to snuggle with you."

"Relax. It was just a joke. Ever heard of them?" Malik shot back, hoping to play the whole thing off as a joke and change the subject.

"Piss off. Go to sleep."

Malik glared half-heartedly and let his eyes close, knowing when he finally dozed off that it would not be a very restful slumber.

* * *

Bakura awoke with a groan as the clouds moved out of the way of the sun, causing it to shine harshly in the pale man's eyes.

"Ugh….Fuck. Too early…" He grunted, casting a look Malik's direction. _Guess he finally managed to sleep…_ Bakura barely finished his thought when he heard a soft moan come from the sleeping teenager.

"Agh…" Malik moaned, sitting up and blinking his eyes open slowly. He had a line of dried drool on his cheek that Bakura grimaced at.

"Looking good this morning," he said dryly.

Malik shot him a look, "Fuck you. I slept in a car last night."

"So did I," Bakura deadpanned.

"Yeah, well, you're not looking so good yourself, either."

Bakura rolled his eyes, "Not like I care. I'll take a shower later."

Malik sighed, "What time is it?"

Bakura looked at his phone (which had been disconnected so it could not be tracked, but he kept it regardless-just in case), "It's 9:32"

"_Seriously? _I can't believe I slept so long in this piece of crap…"

Bakura sighed again, "Buckle up. I'm gonna drive back to the dealership. Liam might be finished with the IDs."

"And if he's not?"

Bakura shrugged, "We'll get some breakfast. I could seriously use a cup of coffee."

Malik grimaced, running a hand through his greasy blonde locks, "I don't wanna go anywhere looking like this…"

"Looking good is the least of your worries. Besides, you'll be wearing a disguise, so it won't even matter."

Malik furrowed his eyebrows, a look of confusion on his face, "Disguise?"

"Well, we're not exactly people who blend in. I mean, you're all tan and I have white hair. Not exactly your average Joe."

"I guess…"

"Now buckle up. I'm not getting a ticket because of you."

* * *

A little while later they both arrived back at the dealership. Bakura groaned when he saw his old car being displayed out front. _My poor car… It's just gonna get bought by somebody who'll wreck it… _Bakura wiped the thought from his head as he parked and exited the crappy car. Malik made a move to get out, but Bakura told him not to bother because he would only be gone a few minutes.

Bakura entered the front office, ignoring the woman at the front desk wishing him good morning. He didn't even toss her a glance.

"If you'll just take a seat, one of our-sir?" She inquired, confused when the white haired man walked by her. He was not in the mood to be patronized.

"Liam! Where the fuck are you, asshole?" Bakura yelled. Seconds later the blonde emerged, looking annoyed.

"Must you swear like that in my office? You'll scare away my customers," he scolded only half-heartedly.

Bakura gave a snort, "What customers?"

"Harsh. How about we step into my office?"

"Whatever," Bakura said, following the man into a pale, cream coloured room. He sat down in one of the hard, plastic chairs.

"I have the stuff right here. I haven't started in the passports yet," he said, handing Bakura two plastic, completely real looking ID cards. One for Malik and one for himself, "I hope you weren't expecting me to be halfway done or something. It takes time, you know that. Now, about the-"

"_What the fuck?!_" Bakura growled,"_Is this some kind of joke?!_"

Liam held back his smirk, "Whatever do you mean, my dear Bakura?"

"Florence Brooks?! You named me fucking Florence?!"

"It suits you. You look like a Florence," he said calmly, taking a sip of his coffee. On the mug was an advertisement for the company.

"Asshole. I should have known you would do that. Asshole," He growled, rubbing his temples.

"Oh, calm down, Florence. I was going to call you Olaf. I'm feeling very Swedish today."

"Don't fucking call me that! And what's with Malik's name? Joseph Wilson? He's freaking Egyptian! Couldn't you have at least given him a name that makes sense?"

"I thought about it, but who knows, all those Arab names could be on a no-fly list. You should be thankful, I was only thinking of your convenience. Who wants to deal with some security bullcrap?"

"You're a patronizing asshole, that's what you are," Bakura growled angrily, spinning around on his heal and exiting the office.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Florence," He smirked, taking another sip of coffee.

Bakura stomped out of the dealership. Angrily, he ripped open the door to the car, and Malik gave him a quizzical look.

"Did he not have them?"

"Oh, he fucking had them all right," Bakura growled, shoving the key in the ignition.

"Then what's the problem?"

"_This _is the fucking problem!" Bakura yelled, ripping the cards out of his pocket and handing them to Malik. After a second or two Malik broke out laughing.

"Florence! That's so great!"

"Shut up, brat! Don't you _dare _call me that, understand? I _will_ kill you!"

Malik managed to stifle the rest of his laughs and gave a quick nod, "So you're gonna go get a hotel room, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. Preferably one with free breakfast. I want a cup of coffee."

"As long as it has running water I'm happy."

"Oh, when did you become little miss low-maintenance?"

Malik smirked, "As soon as you became a woman."

* * *

After a little arguing, Bakura and Malik managed to find a hotel room they agreed on. Bakura wanted a cheap room with a bed and breakfast, but Malik complained he wanted a nice place of he was going to stay there a few days.

"You're such a brat sometimes."

"And you're stubborn…Florence."

Bakura glared at Malik as he stepped out of the car, slamming it roughly. He stomped inside without a word, and the Egyptian followed with a satisfied smirk on his face. The lobby had a red carpet with many fancy shapes adorning it in patterns. Unlike their last motel, the furniture looked new and pristine. In one of the couches sat a blonde woman, tapping away on her phone. There was a TV playing BBC world, and Malik sat down in one of the chairs to watch while Bakura went up to the front desk.

"Hello, sir, how may I help you?" Asked a smiley young woman.

"I need a room," Bakura stated bluntly.

"Do you have a reservation?"

"Uh, no."

"Right. Please wait a moment while I see what is available," She said. Bakura stood there, hoping to god he didn't have to give this woman and ID.

"Well?" He asked after a while, his impatience apparent.

"We have a double open on the third floor-"

Bakura cut her off, having learned from his past mistake, "I want a room with two beds."

She paused a moment, "Oh, I thought…" She trailed off, clearing her throat as the typed some more on her computer.

"You thought what?" Bakura asked, glaring at her.

She didn't meet his gaze, "Well, the way you two walked in together, and I just assumed that-"

"Well you assumed wrong," Bakura growled, glaring daggers. She gulped.

"Yes, well, on the second floor there is a room with two beds. It will be 158 a night. Will that be credit or debit?" She asked, thankful to change the subject.

"Cash."

"Cash, sir?" She looked at him, surprised.

"Yes, cash. You do know what cash is, right? Your job can't possibly pay that little."

She gulped, "Th-That's fine, sir. Can I please see an ID?"

Bakura froze, "Do you really need to?"

"Yes, sir, I'm afraid it's protocol. Nothing I can do about it. We need it for our books. "

Bakura sighed and pulled out his wallet. He handed the woman the ID. She looked it over, "Yes, uh, thank you, mister, um, Florence…" She blubbered, handing him back his ID, which he took harshly. He took the keys from her without a word and stomped towards the elevator.

He didn't even bother to tell Malik he was done. He knew the boy had been listening (and holding back laughter) the whole time.

* * *

"Ah! That felt good!" Malik declared as he stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom. He had nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist.

"Good to know, Mal-" Bakura looked up from his book and laid eyes on the teen's muscular chest. He blinked a few times, watching the water droplets cascade down his abs. _Damn…_ Bakura thought. _He's not half bad looking… _And 'not half bad' wasn't even beginning to describe it. In the light, Malik's skin shimmered angelically, helped along by the droplets of glistening water in the air from Malik's hot shower. Bakura's eyes travelled down Malik's muscular form, down to the noticeable bulge that protruded slightly from Malik's towel.

"Bakura," Malik said loudly, snapping Bakura out of his daze.

"Huh? What?" He said, blinking several times and giving his head a shake.

"I asked if you were gonna take a shower."

"Oh, yeah, I am."

Malik nodded, "I'm gonna call my sister while you're in there."

Bakura nodded, "You thought of something to tell her?"

"Yeah, I think I did."

"Good," Bakura stood up, forgetting the book was on his lap as it tumbled to the ground. Bakura didn't bother to pick it up as he pushed by Malik and closed the door to the bathroom.

Malik walked over and sat on the bed, grabbing the phone. He punched in the number, pleading silently that the hotel allowed free long distance calls. Bakura would give him an earful if he spent a ton on telephone calls.

After about three rings, he heard a familiar, firm voice, "Hello?"

He let out a sigh, "Isis."

Isis let out a gasp, "Malik! Rishid, get on the other line, it's Malik! Malik, what on earth happened? Why-"

"Malik? Is that you?" Came the deep voice of his adopted brother.

"It's me, Rishid."

"Malik, what's going on?! We tried calling you, but you wouldn't answer, we were worried sick! The university called yesterday to tell us you stopped attending classes! What's wrong?" Said Rishid, concern dotting his usual monotony.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I've…"

"What, Malik? What could possibly have happened that you neglected to tell us about for two weeks!" Asked Isis. He could feel worry in her tone.

_I was kidnapped, drugged out of my mind and sold into sex slavery, then kidnapped again, and now I'm on the run from a gang of criminals who want to kill not only me, but also my kidnapper. No biggie. _"I…met someone," he stated. _Not a total lie…_

"Malik, what are you talking about? What does that mean?"

Malik gulped. He didn't like lying to his siblings, "I met and fell in love with someone. And we're going to leave the country and live together somewhere else."

Both were silent for a long time. Isis finally spoke, "Malik, that doesn't make any sense. Why would you leave the country with some girl-"

"Because he's not a girl!" Malik bit his bottom lip. Now was as good a time as ever to tell them he was gay.

"You mean…you're?" The word _fag _popped into Malik's head, but he knew that's not what she was going to say.

"Yeah. I-I'm leaving the country with him because his family is trying to spit us up. We can't stay here and be happy…"

"Oh, Malik…." Rishid finally spoke. Malik expected to hear disappointment in his tone, but instead he still heard the same concern that was there before, "How come you didn't tell us sooner?"

"I…I was nervous. I saw how his family reacted. I was afraid to get the same reaction from you."

"You know we would never abandon you, Malik. We love you. But, you have to understand what you're throwing away here. How long have you know this man?"

Malik bit his bottom lip again, "I met him only a few days after I get here."

"What's his name?" Asked Isis. A rock felt like it hit the bottom of Malik's stomach. _I didn't think of a name…_

"Florence," He said after a second. His eyes widened at his words. _Why the hell did _that _name pop into my head?_

"…Florence?" Isis repeated, questioningly.

"Yeah…"

"That's…unique," she said.

"Uh…yeah…"

"You two have a plan for what you're going to do, right?" Rishid asked, trying to patch the awkward vibe.

"Well… Not really…"

"Malik! You can't just run off with some man and not even have some form of a plan on what you're going to do!" Malik winced. _Rishid never raises his voice…_

"Where are you going to go?"

"The states," Malik said, gulping. He didn't expect to feel so emotional right now. It was as if all he said was actually true.

"Can we at least talk to him?" Isis asked.

"He's in the shower right now. And besides, he doesn't speak Arabic," Malik said quickly. A long sigh came from the other end of the line. _Great… _he thought, _I've disappointed them again…_

"I have to go," Malik said quickly after a long pause.

"But, Malik! We've barely talked to you! We want to know more about him! What is he like? Is he nice? Does he treat you right?"

"He's the most wonderful man in the world. He's been nothing but nice to me. We love each other," Malik said. He just wanted to say whatever pleased them so he could hang up.

"I really hope this turns out well for you. And if…if it ever goes bad, you can always come back home. Always," Rishid said. Malik smiled a bit.

"Thank you. I love you both."

"We love you too, Mal. Call us as soon as you can, okay?"

"Okay."

"Promise?" Isis interjected, wanting to prolong the conversation as long as she could. Malik couldn't take it anymore. Lying to them was killing him. He had to hang up.

"I promise. Goodbye."

"Bye, Malik," both Rishid and Isis said at the same time, though neither of turned off the phone. Malik let out a sigh and hung up the phone. Tears threatened to leak from his lavender eyes.

"Shit…" Malik mumbled, laying down on the bed. He was so preoccupied, he didn't even notice his towel fell off him and slid to the floor as he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep, exhausted from the day's happenings and yesterday's lack of fulfilling sleep.

* * *

Bakura slammed the door behind him, leaving the practically naked Malik outside to make his call in private. It was hard to breathe in the thick steam, but Bakura was too busy thinking to care.

"I can't believe I was checking him out…" Bakura groaned, leaning up against the sink. He started to strip out of his clothes, looking forward to a long, relaxing shower. _But he was really hot…_ The thought popped into Bakura's head before he could stop it.

"I must be crazy," Bakura muttered, turning on the water in the shower. It was still considerably hot from Malik's shower only moments ago. Bakura sighed, enjoying to feeling of the water trickle through his hair. He stood there for a long while before grabbing the small bottle of hotel shampoo and squirting what remained of the bottle into his hand. _At least Malik left me half… _he sighed, massaging the shampoo onto his scalp and combing it through his thick hair. _Feels so refreshing…_

Bakura didn't know how long he was in the shower, but he figured it had to be at least thirty minutes from the way his fingertips shrivelled up. He sighed, turning to water off. He felt clean and refreshed, which was a nice change from the past few days. He reached of the towel rack and used one to dry his sopping hair. After it was not dripping, he dried off the rest of his body and wrapped the towel around his waist.

"A few more days…" Bakura sighed. When he stepped out of the bathroom the last thing he expected to see was a completely naked, sleeping Malik laying uncovered on the bed.

* * *

**Sorry for all the chapter breaks. I switched scenes a lot in this one. But guess what! You got your long chapter, you got your yaoi, you got your...other stuff...so review! The power of my rod commands you :3**


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